The afternoon, Julien arranged for Pierre to contact Kamara.
This was the Monaco scout director Pierre had previously approached—the one who'd convinced board member Barillaro to sign Mbappé in the first place.
On the phone, Kamara was well aware of Mbappé's recent struggles.
Given Mbappé's close relationship with De Rocca and his outstanding performances at Bondy that had attracted considerable scout attention, the scrutiny on him ran notably higher than on other youth players.
Kamara admitted frankly, "The situation is delicate, but we'll handle it."
After Kamara's call, Barillaro rang through personally. "I've found the solution. Kylian won't continue working with Illel. I'll take charge of him myself."
While serving in club management, Barillaro also coached Monaco's U19 squad.
This essentially meant another promotion for Mbappé.
Julien believed his ability justified the leap. If Mbappé could break into the Ligue 1 squad within the next year or two, that's when he'd truly begin to shine.
After dinner, while his mother took his younger siblings to experience Monaco's nightlife, Julien met with Pierre and the Mbappé family—father and son.
The four gathered at a local tavern for drinks.
The boys naturally abstained from alcohol, keeping the evening conversational.
But Wilfried, perhaps emboldened by familiar company and a few drinks, finally unleashed the emotions he'd been suppressing for weeks.
He vented to Pierre while Julien listened.
"This whole Illel situation—it's absolutely infuriating! I've never seen anything so absurd in my life!"
"At first, what did they say? Honor League? Bullshit! That Illel wanted to throw my son Kylian into some trash-tier league where the football is terrible and it's just barbaric running and crashing into each other! Called it 'development'? Kylian played at that level the year before at Bondy—he already proved it was beneath him! Making him play with those players, are they trying to make him regress?"
"Then, the most ridiculous part—Illel stands on the sideline shouting at my son, ordering him to track back like he's some ordinary workhorse! Kylian gives him a hand gesture, basically saying 'I know what I'm doing'—perfectly normal reaction, right?
But Illel acts like he's been mortally offended! And you know what happened? Kylian did nothing wrong, but WE get called into management again! Illel complained about HIM! Made it sound like Kylian committed some major offense!
We went to management to discuss things rationally, to solve the playing time issue. You know what Illel said? He claimed Kylian had 'attitude problems' in the U17 league!
Attitude problems! My son just wants to play football, wants to get on the pitch—is that a crime?! And saying Kylian being 'unhappy' is HIS fault? Please! Who could be happy under that self-righteous coach? Kylian gets along great with his teammates—it's the coach who's isolating him!"
Kylian glanced apologetically at Julien during his father's tirade.
He'd been thrilled when Julien arrived in Monaco.
Seeing Julien made all these setbacks feel trivial. After all, he knew Julien's background—Julien had started from rock bottom. How bad could his own situation really be in comparison?
Kylian felt he still had much to learn from Julien.
Wilfried's grievances poured out endlessly.
"What made me explode was Illel admitting, actually admitting—what he said to my son in training! I remember every word!
He said: 'Don't act like a big shot,' 'You're not at Real Madrid,' 'Move your ass faster!'
Listen to that! LISTEN! Is that how you talk to a kid who's barely fifteen? What kind of 'coaching' is that?! That's pure jealousy and suppression! My son is just a kid! He needs encouragement! Guidance! Not being cursed at like some rabid dog by this asshole!
That meeting solved nothing! The guy's as stubborn as a mule! And then later, at that match in Montagis, he had the nerve to publicly humiliate Kylian! Wanted to substitute him? Before Kylian even made a move, he flew into a rage and pulled him off! I heard he even embellished the story, claiming my son told him to 'fuck off'?
That guilty conscience is his own! The whole scene was disgusting!"
"You know what? I made up my mind right then. If Monaco's useless management can't handle that coach, if they keep letting him destroy my son's talent and confidence, I'll find him another club immediately. Paris? England? Spain? Plenty of top clubs would treat him like the gem he is! He's only fourteen with this level of ability—who the hell does Illel think he is?"
Pierre worked to calm Wilfried down, helping him regulate his emotions.
Julien turned to Kylian. "Don't worry, things will improve. Pierre has already contacted Barillaro, and your incoming sporting director Luis Campos is very impressed with you. Luis was scouting for Real Madrid just last year—I'm sure he reviewed your profile even then."
Kylian nodded. "Last year Zinedine took our whole family to visit Real Madrid. He wanted me to join their youth academy."
"You didn't want to join Real?" Julien asked suddenly, having seen the Real Madrid posters plastered across Mbappé's bedroom—especially the ones of Ronaldo.
Wilfried, seeming slightly more sober, turned to answer for his son. "We felt he was too young. He wouldn't get opportunities at Real Madrid."
Julien nodded in understanding.
Wilfried continued, "Actually, for Kylian's tenth birthday, his uncle gave him a model of the Bernabéu. At the time, Kylian told us with complete confidence: 'One day, I'll take you all to watch matches from Real Madrid's executive box.' We all laughed, but four years later, he had the chance to fulfill that promise. We chose to refuse—it wasn't an easy decision."
He patted Kylian's shoulder.
Mentioning Real Madrid brought a smile to Kylian's face as he recalled last year's trip,
"The first day, we watched Real Madrid play Espanyol live. The second morning, we visited the Valdebebas training facility—Zidane showed us around for ages. Then I participated in a Real Madrid training session for the first time! It was incredible, and we played a match! On the fourth day, I did recovery training and met the first-team players—even took photos with them!"
Mbappé pulled out his phone, showing Julien the photos.
These images he normally showed no one—they were his treasured collection. In his heart, the Bernabéu was a temple.
Until he possessed the absolute ability to deserve that white shirt, his "Royal Dream" wasn't something to share lightly with outsiders.
Julien scrolled through slowly.
In one photo, Mbappé wore Real Madrid training gear, arm around his idol Ronaldo, completely unintimidated, flashing a V-sign with two fingers.
Ronaldo, unbothered by the recent frustrating draw with Espanyol, displayed his trademark smile.
He even ruffled Mbappé's hair.
At Clairefontaine, Mbappé's friends called him "Peanut" because of his head shape.
This photo became the most precious memory from his Madrid pilgrimage.
Julien and Pierre didn't stay long with the Mbappés—Kylian had early training tomorrow, preparing for the youth league.
As Julien prepared to leave, he embraced Mbappé. "Train hard. Push to reach the first team soon. Maybe at Euro 2016, we can fight side by side?"
Hearing Julien's words, Mbappé's eyes blazed with light, excitement was flooding his face.
He nodded ardently. "I will!"
But as Julien turned to go, Mbappé called after him with a blessing: "You'll win every trophy! Everyone's saying you'll win this year's Ballon d'Or!"
Julien smiled. 'The Ballon d'Or?'
This was just Zidane and other French legends building momentum for him. France needed its next Ballon d'Or winner.
But not this year. It simply wasn't possible—the Europa League didn't carry enough weight.
Even winning it wouldn't secure the award.
He patted Mbappé's head. "I can't win everything in two years. That would make football too simple."
Finally, he added, "We need to set higher goals for ourselves. In my mind, there's always someone who'll do better than me, so we have to strive for more—because one day we'll be surpassed."
Listening to Julien's words, Mbappé thought this was absolutely magnificent.
After Julien left, Mbappé quietly copied some of what Julien had said into his phone's notes. These were golden quotes.
He imagined that when he became famous and gave interviews, he'd deliver these lines to reporters.
He'd look so cool saying them.
When Julien and Pierre returned to the hotel, the others had already come back.
His sister Élodie still clutched his arm, eager to share: "Oh my god, the legendary Monte Carlo Casino! That building looks like a palace, and the entrance is packed with supercars I can't even name—Ferraris and Lamborghinis are just the baseline there.
We walked through without gambling, just looking around. Inside it's all gold and glittering, with crystal chandeliers that blind you—you can literally smell money in the air!
So many people dressed formally, the atmosphere was absolutely dripping with decadence. Right next to the casino is the ultra-luxurious Hôtel de Paris, where even the doormen look like movie stars. We had coffee there..."
His two brothers clearly hadn't enjoyed that scene as much. They preferred the thrill of F1.
Loup said excitedly, "The most incredible thing was walking an actual lap of the Monaco Grand Prix circuit! The famous Hairpin turn and the tunnel!
Standing on those corners you only see on TV, imagining race cars screaming past at over 200 kilometers per hour—the adrenaline rush was insane!
You can still see tire marks on the road surface, it felt so real!
The whole city feels built for racing. So many cafés along the route are F1-themed, and you can buy all kinds of team merchandise. Reece and I both got model cars."
He enthusiastically showed Julien his purchase.
Pierre glanced at the price tags on the models and instinctively felt the sting of expense.
He almost wanted to complain. But suddenly he remembered—they were no longer the struggling family they once were and exhaled.
Pierre turned to watch Julien laughing with his younger siblings and realized how much his son had transformed.
Now Julien could converse easily with French football legends, connect naturally with young players, and family relations had reached their best point in years.
A smile appeared on Pierre's face.
This feeling wasn't bad at all.
The next day, Julien originally planned to return to Paris with his family before traveling to Bastia, but reconsidered. He flew directly from Nice, adjacent to Monaco, back to Bastia.
No point in unnecessary travel fatigue.
Upon rejoining the squad, Julien didn't continue resting but threw himself into training.
He also discussed national team experiences with his teammates.
Rothen gave Julien a thumbs-up. "Seriously impressive—that was Spain. Ramos looked completely lost against you."
Cahuzac added, "I check the media coverage of you every day now. Honestly, I get a thrill from it every time because you're MY teammate!"
Julien responded to each comment warmly.
After returning, Julien's life reverted to its simplified routine.
Following the Spain victory, his total victory points reached 85 again—just 15 short of another hundred.
Julien roughly calculated that league matches would contribute minimally. He'd need to count on the Basel match.
But victory points were only one aspect. More importantly, he needed daily training to approach his attribute ceilings.
Time passed swiftly.
At month's end, Bastia traveled to face Valenciennes.
This was the same Ligue 1 opponent Julien had faced in his first-team debut, but this time he couldn't take the field.
Hadzibegic rested several international players on the bench.
By the time the match ended, none had been subbed on.
Bastia fell 1-2 away to Valenciennes.
Hadzibegic had thought their comfortable league lead allowed player rest before the Europa League push.
Who could have known that Paris, kicking off simultaneously, would draw again—1-1 at home to Montpellier.
The gap remained eleven points.
With eight matches remaining, Paris was practically gifting Bastia the title.
________________________________________________________
Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:
patreon.com/LorianFiction
Thanks for your support!